


Eyes Opened

by Macx



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-23
Updated: 2011-05-23
Packaged: 2017-10-19 17:40:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been close. Too close. Trip had been scared out of his mind from the moment he had heard about the kidnapping till the minute he had found the lieutenant. On the outside, he had covered it well; he had been a model of professionalism. On the inside, he had paced and fretted and been a wreck. Even when he had been forced to admit that he might never see his lover again. Of course, it was Malcolm's job aboard Enterprise to guard them, keep them safe, but he didn't have to lose his life doing it.<br/>Reaching out, Trip touched the pale cheek, running a careful finger over the skin, smiling dimly. The wounds were healing, and if all went well, Phlox would release Reed by tomorrow. Malcolm had survived. Bruised and battered and beaten, but he had survive</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes Opened

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Shuttlepod One

 

It should have been so simple. So easy. Nothing had pointed at this.  
Rain fell heavily onto the roof of leaves and branches, some of the drops getting through the dense foliage and hitting the dark-haired man who lay curled up against one of the giant trees. Roots twisted around him, forming a kind of wooden cradle laid out with old leaves and damp ground. The blue-gray uniform was torn in places, covered in mud and blood. More blood caked his wet hair and had run down his face to dry along his left cheek. The source of the bleeding had been a deep cut over the left eyebrow. One arm was curled around his mid-section and he was slightly hunched over. The pale face was drawn into a grimace of pain.  
So simple, so easy.  
A planet with humanoid life forms, cities, a whole civilization. First contact.  
The man smiled humorlessly as he tried to shift into a better position. Pain flared up along his battered, mistreated body. Rope burns along his wrists rubbed against the remains of his sleeves; broken ribs protested each breath that was too deep; the bullet wound in his side tore into him with each movement.  
Lieutenant Malcom Reed gazed out into the semi-darkness, wondering where his pursuers were. Did they still follow him? Had he lost them?  
A shiver went through him and he suppressed a groan. Reed knew he couldn't run any more. He was too weak from blood loss and pain. He wouldn't be able to crawl any further than what he had already managed. His only hope was that Enterprise would find him; somehow.  
Who would have guessed that behind this facade of happiness and peace was a revolution waiting to break out? And that this revolution would take the shuttlepod's arrival as their key to begin. Captain Archer and the others had made it out, with Reed covering them as best as he could. The shot to the side had handicapped him and when one of the revolutionaries had tackled him, Malcolm had been captured. They hadn't been very gentle. Then again, he had fought back with all he was worth. He had been trained, he knew what to do, and he had done some real damage. Until several well-placed jabs had not only broken a few ribs but also subdued him. He had come to in an old shack that served as a prison cell.  
Malcom shifted again, gritting his teeth, tears springing into his eyes. God, he hurt! He knew he was still losing blood, that he was going into shock, that he needed treatment.  
Bloody hell.  
His communicator had been lost together with whatever else he had been carrying on his person. He had been searched, interrogated, threatened, beaten. Reed was a bit unclear as to what the revolutionaries were trying to achieve. Just like them, most likely. They seemed to be a bit disorganized.  
The rain increased and the leaves above him couldn't keep the rain away any longer. He was getting drenched in the cold water, his body shivering. He was cold, hurting.... and so sleepy.  
How he had gotten out was still a puzzle to him. Someone had come into his cell, dragged him off the floor and along a dark path in this god-forsaken jungle, then there had been a scuffle. Reed had heard and seen people shouting, shooting, running, and he had taken his chances. When his captor had gone down, he had run. Well, staggered. He had been driven by fear and the need to get out of there, discovering small reserves of strength.  
Now he was here. Marvelous.  
Somewhere, lightning flashed across the sky, lighting up the dark jungle for a brief second. Thunder rumbled across him not much later and the wind picked up. Malcolm closed his eyes, lowering his head to his chest, still shivering. Each muscle movement hurt, his side throbbed, his ribs burned.  
He thought he heard something above the sound of the rain, the rustle of the leaves overhead. He thought he heard voices, he imagined he saw strobes of flashlights. They were still looking for him then. They were getting closer.  
Fear drove adrenaline through his body and despite all bets against it, he managed to move. Slowly. Staggering. Unable to walk in a straight line. The bullet wound bled more, his ribs shifted against each other and tears of pain sprang into his eyes, but he moved. One step after another, out of the protective cradle of roots and leaves. Out into the muddy jungle. He moved because he had to get to safety. Malcolm felt the rough bark of a tree against his outstretched hands as he stumbled over the undergrowth, felt it scrape the sensitive skin of his palms. He felt the bite of the thorns of some kind of other plants in his calves, ripping into his clothes and flesh. Still, it was a small pain compared to the agony he was generally in.  
Slipping along the path that must have been left behind by some kind of animal, he tried to distance himself from the hunters. Each step meant a step further away. Until he slipped once more, his legs giving out from under him. The slight incline he had hit made him tumble, rocks and broken branches stabbing into his abused and battered body, making him gasp silently, unable to cry out any longer. He collided with another tree that stopped his descent, but by the time he had stopped, he couldn't even appreciate it any more. Caked in mud, drenched in rain, the lieutenant lay motionlessly against the large tree.

* * *

Throughout the night, the wind and rain abated, but the heavy cover of clouds still churned across the sky. The fire fight in the compound Malcom Reed had been held at continued. People fled into the jungle, some of them with an idea where to go, others lost. No one came past the spot where the lieutenant lay, unconscious.  
No one but a figure in a dark brown robe, leaning heavily on a carved, gnarled looking stick. Green eyes took in the motionless human, studied the mud-splattered features, then the man knelt down. He placed a hand against the soaked hair, stroking it almost reverently. There was a whisper of wet leaves and a tiny splash, and two more men appeared, none of them cloaked. The man in the robe nodded at them and they carefully lifted the injured armory officer, carrying him off into the jungle.

* * *

Gentle white clouds rode high against the brightly blue sky. The distant waters gleamed a brilliant turquoise and the crests of the waves were a foamy white, almost unreal. Here and there silvery beaches twinkled with the promise of relaxation and a good time. At the far western edge of the steamy jungle, rising in sharp contrast to the sea and the beach, volcanic highlands reached for the sky.  
Out of the jungle, ancient stone towers rose like fingers into the sky, ancient monolithic obelisks telling a tale of the lost civilization of this planet. They were overgrown with vines, showing signs of decay. The jungle had started to claim the land used by the lost people, the vast courtyards around the towers cracked with young plants pushing their way out of the ground. Moss covered the stones.  
The place was an archeological treasure trove, a place of mysteries and secrets which might never be revealed, the ancient glyphs fading with the centuries.  
Commander Charles ‘Trip’ Tucker III had no eyes for the beauty, only for the faint life signs he could pick up on his scanner. His hair was plastered to his head because of the humid air and his face was covered by a fine sheen of sweat. He walked along a small animal path. The ground was a mud bath and the jungle plants around him seemed to hate him. He kept getting stuck in foliage and the leaves clung to him like leeches.  
Twenty-four hours. Malcolm had been in the hands of the Tshan rebels for twenty-four hours, had been interrogated, quite brutally, one of the captured men had told them, but he had escaped. Trip smiled briefly. Good going, Mal, he thought. But because Malcolm had escaped, they had lost his trail. The nasty storm had seen to it, as had the firefight that had gone on around the rebel’s headquarters. The Tshan government had been swift to put down any more uprisings and had apologized profoundly.  
Tucker wasn’t interested in apologies. He wanted to find their lieutenant, the man who had a lot more meaning to him than just another person he worked with. Currently, he, T’Pol, Phlox and Archer were on the planet’s surface, looking everywhere. Trip had caught a faint biosign and was following it, hoping it wouldn’t be another dead end. Sensors were playing havoc around these parts of the planet.  
Pushing past some bushes, Trip almost slid down an incline, barely able to catch himself. The rebellion had been put down, the leaders had been arrested, the storm had passed. All they needed was to get their missing man back and everything would be okay. The words of the prisoner, his confessions about interrogating Reed, still replayed in Trip’s mind. No one knew how badly he was injured, but he feared the worst.  
“Archer to Tucker,” the communicator came to life.  
“Tucker,” he acknowledged.  
“Anything, Trip?”  
He sighed softly. “Nothing at all, Capt’n. Not a single trace. I keep gettin’ a reading, but whenever I get close, it disappears. Something’s messin’ with the sensors.”  
He could almost see Archer’s expression of dismay. “T’Pol is having the same problems. Travis and Hoshi are trying to come up with a better way to sweep this area from Enterprise.”  
Trip smothered a curse. “I’ll keep looking, sir.”  
Two hours later he was ready to burn the jungle to the ground. There were nothing but trees, bushes, ferns and some weird looking flowers. It was hot and humid, the air around him filled with animal noises. Insects buzzed around him and Trip felt like they were eating him alive. He angrily swiped at some kind of large fly, but it just chose a new angle of attack to get to him.  
He was starting to hate plant life with a vengeance. Just as Tucker was ready to call in again, he caught movement at the edge of his vision. He whirled around, but there was only the jungle… nothing else. He turned around again, and again he thought he saw something. Trip tensed, only moving his eyes, trying to take in what was barely even visible.  
There was a soft whisper of movement, leaves and branches, a squelch of feet on mud, and he turned, ducking slightly to pull his phaser. His aim came to rest on two humanoids, dressed in what looked like hand-woven clothes, their bare feet sticking in sandals. They looked faintly like human beings, but upon closer inspection, their skulls showed a variety of ridges on the crown, forehead and cheekbone. The skin was strangely patterned in stripes or ‘leopard spots’.  
“Who are you?” he demanded.  
Neither of the two answered, but the taller one reached into the small bag he carried and pulled out what looked like a badly soiled piece of a Starfleet uniform. He made an inviting gesture to follow them, then both turned and walked into the jungle.  
“Shit!” Trip muttered.  
He had no idea who they were and what they wanted. By all accounts they could be rebels as well. That they had a piece of what looked like Malcolm’s uniform didn’t prove anything. He took out his communicator.  
“Tucker to Archer.”  
“Go ahead, Trip.”  
“I made contact of sorts with some kind of… jungle people. Don’t ask me what they are. They want me to follow. They have part of Reed’s uniform.”  
“Trip, wait for us to reach you!” Archer ordered.  
The two men had stopped and one gestured at him again.  
“They won’t wait, Capt’n. Just track me, okay? I’m still armed.”  
And he followed, ignoring the protests from his superior. He would deal with it later.

* * *

Malcolm’s world was one of pain, his vision extremely limited, clouds pushing in from the edge. He felt a touch and flinched away from it as it evoked more pain. His left side was on fire and every breath hurt. Someone looked at him. He blinked, trying to focus. What he saw was a humanoid face, crystal clear green eyes looking at him. They weren't human eyes, though. The face of the humanoid was dark-skinned, the forehead mottled with strange ridges, and gray hair fell alongside his skull.  
"Who .... are .... you?" he whispered, mind feverish with pain.  
His body was slipping deeper into shock now, starting to tremble with the reaction to the blood loss and exhaustion.  
A hand touched his forehead, cool and soothing, but Malcolm fought it. He had no idea who that person was, though he didn’t look like a Tshan rebel, still… everything inside him tried to get away. He wanted to get up, shove the man away, run, but all he managed as a weak twitch of his hand.  
The gray-haired man smiled slightly. “Sleep,” he muttered in an accented tongue.  
The world around him dimmed more and finally slipped away.

* * *

The village had definitely seen better days, if it could be called a village at all. It looked like at least a decade past its prime. The fortifications were weathered and crumbling in spots, and the scattered barracks were afflicted by leprous scabs of flaking paint. The buildings seemed to consist mainly of wood and some kind of bark, the roofs covered with dried leaves and branches. Trees had overgrown most of the compound and somehow it appeared like nothing really lived here any more.  
Trip was led into the silent, abandoned looking settlement and the two men entered the largest of the huts. Thick clumps of bush were scattered all around them, the jungle claiming back what had been destroyed when the village had been built. Tucker hesitated, but again the men gestured at him to follow. Phaser still drawn, he entered the hut. He was surprised that it was just a barren room. One of the men stayed next to the entrance, the other walked over to a flap separating the room from the next. He held it open for Trip to walk through and he stepped inside. The room behind the flap was actually a roughly constructed staircase leading underground. Someone had dug it out of the ground and roots were still curling out of the ground like skeletal fingers. His guide walked downstairs. Trip inhaled deeply and followed.  
The underground structure was simple. Three rooms had been carved out of the ground, strangely warm and fresh. Light came from what Tucker judged to be crystals decorating the walls, woven into the network of roots. He was led through another flap.  
"Oh my gawd! Malcolm..." He almost stopped dead in his tracks.  
Malcolm Reed lay on a mattress made out of some kind of woven material, his uniform stripped down to his waist, his chest heavily bandaged. Bruises and cuts mottled his too pale skin. Trip walked over to the lieutenant and fell to his knees, immediately checking for a pulse. He found it, weak and thready. Reed's breathing was erratic and sounded labored.  
“Malcolm?”  
The eyelids fluttered and then Reed’s eyes cracked open. A sliver of blue became visible.  
“Trip?” he rasped, voice trembling.  
Tucker gave him a brilliant smile. “Hey.” He wiped a gentle hand over one cheek.  
Reed leaned into to it, eyes sliding shut again.  
“Your friend very weak. Badly hurt.”  
The scratchy voice made him whirl around and Trip stared at two bright, green eyes in a scarred and wrinkly face. Sitting in a corner of the room, cross-legged, dressed in a kind of tunic, the man looked like one of those West Indian holy men. He was thin, his gray hair long, but neatly combed, and his skin had the texture of bark. Like one of his guides, he had spots traveling down his arms and legs, some of them criss-crossed with scars.  
“Who are you?” Trip wanted to know, one hand resting on the too warm skin of his friend, the other hovering close to the phaser.  
“Ancharee,” the old man answered. “We are Ancharee. Forest people. We found your friend. Badly hurt.”  
“You speak my language?”  
The old man nodded. “We learn fast. We hear, we speak. I did what I could for your friend. Very bad hurt.”  
“I know. I need to contact my friends…” Trip indicated the pocket where he carried his communicator. “May I?”  
Another nod. “We not your enemy. We help. Nothing more we can help now.”  
Trip pulled out the communicator and opened a frequency. "Tucker to Archer. I... I found Lieutenant Reed. We need the doctor."  
"Understood," the captain's voice came out of the small loudspeaker. "Trip...?"  
"I don't know," Tucker answered softly. “Listen, there are humanoids here, called Ancharee. They led me to this place.”  
“We find your friends. Lead here,” the old man said calmly.  
“And they’re offering to lead you, too.”  
“What do those Ancharee look like?”  
“I think you’ll recognize them when you see them.”  
Archer cleared his throat. “I think we just met two of them.”  
Trip closed the communicator and turned back to the still form of the armory officer. He ran a careful hand over the feverishly warm forehead.  
“Malcolm?”  
There was no reaction this time.  
“It’ll be all right,” Trip murmured. “We’ll get you out of this.”

It took the captain, T’Pol and Phlox barely fifteen minutes to arrive as well, accompanied by two more Ancharee of the splotchy-stripy kind, one with the same bark-like skin texture as the old man. Phlox immediately took over with a professional mannerism, starting his scans of the unconscious man. The old Ancharee answered the Denublian’s questions readily, his slightly broken and heavily accented English more than enough to tell the physician how they had taken care of Reed. Tucker stepped back, watching the controlled hectic of procedures. Phlox's worried expression told him more than any medical terms. It looked bad.  
“Thank you for your help,” Archer turned to the man.  
“We always help.”  
The captain smiled slightly. “You didn’t even know Malcolm.”  
“We know. He was badly hurt, need help. We help. All we need to know.”  
“Do you have a name?”  
“We are Ancharee.”  
Archer shook his head. “No, I mean as an individual.”  
The old man cocked his head to the left. “We do not need names. We know each other.”  
The captain was puzzled, but he let it go. “I haven’t seen any Ancharee when we were in the city not far from here.” He made a vague gesture into the general direction of the Tshan settlement.  
The old man furrowed his ridged forehead. “Ancharee live here. We do not like the city. The city does not like Ancharee either.”  
“What is that?” Phlox suddenly asked, peeling back some of the bandages that had hidden the shot wound.  
“Kih,” the old man answered.  
Over Malcolm’s skin stretched a light brown, amoebeus creature with leopard spots all over its body. Feelers or tentacles were latched onto the abdomen and it was effectively covering the wound.  
“We use Kih to treat skin breaches,” the old man continued to explain. “They seal. They keep wounds clean.”  
“Ah. I see.” Phlox looked fascinated. “How do I get it to release the injury?”  
“Touch. It will know.” The Ancharee clucked once. “Should stay, though. Keeps wound clean and sealed. No bleeding.”  
“As you wish. I will remove it once we are up on Enterprise.”  
Trip stared at the strange creature. He was used to osmotic eels and other alien life forms from Phlox, so he wasn’t truly freaked. Just slightly unnerved to see this thing attached to Reed.  
“A shuttlepod is landing on a clearing not far from here,” T’Pol walked up to them, her voice as calm and collected as always. Her eyes briefly strayed to the unconscious lieutenant. “ETA is in ten minutes.”  
“Thank you,” Archer nodded. “Doctor, can we move him?”  
Phlox looked up once more, looking none too happy. “I have stabilized him as best as I can. We have to be careful, though. He is in a delicate state.”  
Hold on, Mal, Trip only thought feverishly. Just hold on.

The flight back to Enterprise passed in almost complete silence. Phlox was taking care of Malcolm, Archer was flying and T’Pol was simply doing whatever she thought she had to do. Trip sat next to the wounded lieutenant, eyes pinned to the unmoving form. He kept a neutral façade, letting only the acceptable amount of worry and agitation show. Nothing more, nothing less.  
They docked not much later and as they left the shuttlepod, Archer shot him a questioning look. Trip just smiled valiantly, then headed away; to his quarters. To clean up. To do whatever he had to do to keep from thinking about Malcolm Reed and the severity of his injuries.

* * *

"Four broken ribs, two cracked ones. One lung was punctured by the broken ribs. Severe trauma to the lower left side. A projectile wound in his lower abdomen, resulting in blood loss. Mild concussion, a deep laceration over the left eye. Assorted bruises all over his body. Hypothermia."  
Dr. Phlox looked at his captain and saw the expression of guilt there. Archer was still not ready to accept that it had been inevitable. No one could have known what to expect, especially after prolonged talks with the Tshan government where they had been welcomed and invited to this diplomatic mission. No one could have foreseen a revolution. No one. Lieutenant Reed had saved his commanding officer's life and had been caught in the process. Shot and beaten up. It reminded the doctor of similar circumstances when the armory officer had ended up with a bullet in his leg, but back then his condition had been ideal compared to now.  
"Lieutenant Reed has come through the surgery in a fair condition. The Ancharee have done a remarkable job to stabilize him until we got to him. The Kih that covered the shot wound effectively sterilized the area until I could treat it. A remarkable creature. I’m looking forward to studying its medical uses in the future.” Phlox turned to look at his patient. “Mr. Reed will need rest to recover. I want to keep him here for at least another forty-eight hours after he has awakened. He can return to his quarters if we get the pneumonia under control."  
Archer nodded, the expression in his face not changing. If at all, there was even more guilt there. "Thank you, Doctor. Is he awake?"  
"No. The painkillers are keeping him under. It's better this way."  
Another nod. "Keep me posted on his condition."  
"Certainly, captain."

* * *

Trip gazed at the sleeping man, his eyes hooded, his face almost a complete blank. Inside him, worry and fear were battling for dominance, and worry won for the time being. They had nearly lost Malcolm Reed. It had been close. Too close. Trip had been scared out of his mind from the moment he had heard about the kidnapping till the minute he had found the lieutenant. On the outside, he had covered it well; he had been a model of professionalism. On the inside, he had paced and fretted and been a wreck. Even when he had been forced to admit that he might never see his lover again. Of course, it was Malcolm's job aboard Enterprise to guard them, keep them safe, but he didn't have to lose his life doing it.  
Reaching out, Trip touched the pale cheek, running a careful finger over the skin, smiling dimly. The wounds were healing, and if all went well, Phlox would release Reed by tomorrow. Malcolm had survived. Bruised and battered and beaten, but he had survived. Until the next time. He swallowed.  
That's what you get for falling for a guy from security. The chief of security. Who also was in charge of weapons and everything connected to it.  
Trip sighed and shook his head. He let his fingers trail down the lax arm and curled them around Reed's fingers. Rubbing a thumb over the hand in his grasp, he smiled a bit more.  
Fallen.  
He had fallen.  
He had never planned to fall for anyone ever again, not after Nathalie. That letter had torn his heart in two, even if some part of him had come to accept that long-distance relationships would never work. When he had left Earth, he hadn’t expected this little ‘delivery’ run to become a longer mission. Neither had Nathalie. In the end he had resigned himself to the fact that if he should see Earth any time soon, it would be too late anyway. He couldn’t expect the lady to wait indefinitely, even if she had been aware of who he was and where he would work.  
He had flirted with a lot of women in the past. Before Nathalie, while he was separated from her, and later. Nothing had ever been serious or had lasted. Nothing had meant anything.  
Trip studied the features of the man on the biobed. He exhaled explosively and closed his eyes. Maybe it would have been better never to start this relationship at all. Then again, was it really a relationship? What did Malcolm see in their encounters, the nights they spent together? Because Trip had started to see more. It had been small at first, a little nagging feeling that always came to mind when he left Reed’s quarters in the morning, or even sooner. It was the feeling of loss, something he couldn’t put into words, and it bothered him.  
They had first come together a week after the shuttlepod incident. Trip didn't know what it had been. Maybe because he had suddenly gotten an insight in the normally so reserved Brit. Maybe because of the pain and the longing he had heard when Malcolm had recounted his problems of getting close to someone. Maybe because he had found the man attractive from the beginning and the near-death experience had shown him what he would miss. Maybe because of the outbreak when their nerves had been stretched to the limit. Maybe because of his own frustration over losing another women to his job. Maybe all of it together. Trip might never know.  
But after waking up in the sickbay after their rescue from the shuttlepod, he had seen Reed with different eyes. He had seen their arguments with different eyes. Malcolm Reed could be one infuriating person, but he also touched something no one else had ever touched. He could rouse Trip like nothing else, he challenged him on different levels, and each discussion or argument had made the engineer feel… alive somehow. From their heated discussion of phase cannons and the impulse drive, to smaller outbreaks of different opinions throughout their mission. It had always been… invigorating.  
Trip smiled at the memories. All that British reserve and calm exterior had been wiped away when they had first touched each other. The first probing kiss, then the butterfly touches. Trip had never felt so much in such a short time.

//Trip gazed at the smaller man, taking in the gray-blue eyes, the half-smile, the whole expression on his face.  
“So you want someone to take your mind off things?” the lieutenant asked, voice rather matter-of-fact.  
Yes, he did. He wanted someone, but not anyone. He had chosen a man over the women he could have on board. He had chosen the armory officer.  
Here they were, alone in Reed’s quarters, and he made a decision. He had to take the risk.  
“I want you,” Trip answered, voice a bit rough.  
He leaned closer, hesitantly pressing his lips against the other man’s, feeling like a teenager at his prom date.  
Malcolm met the shy kiss, hands touching him carefully. When they separated, Trip tried to gauge his friend’s reaction to the intimate contact. He didn’t see any disgust or anger, which was good. But there was a twinkle, which he didn’t really like.  
“You call that a kiss, Commander Tucker?” Reed asked, teasing. The blue eyes had lit up with something that Trip thought was very, very bad.  
Before he could reply the smaller man grabbed him and his lips came down on his mouth, stealing his breath, a questing tongue demanding and finding access. Trip didn’t know what was happening to him as he responded to the assault. Malcolm’s hands gently held his head, woven into his hair, as he was thoroughly kissed and explored.  
God, was his only thought.  
Finally the armory officer let go, swiping his tongue over Trip’s lower lip as he came up for air, eyes sparkling. “That’s a kiss,” he declared breathlessly.  
“Whoa,” was all Tucker managed, blinking.  
“I take that as a compliment, commander.”  
Malcolm kissed him again, gentler this time, exploring instead of conquering, and the engineer responded in kind. He wrapped his arms around the compact frame, drawing his lover closer. The kisses grew in intensity and Trip nipped at Reed’s jaw, then his throat, trailing a path down to the collar bone. A soft exhalation answered him, almost a moan. They kissed for a long time, just exploring each other’s mouths, their bodies melting against each other.  
“Bed?” Trip whispered into the ear he was licking.  
“Mh-hm.”  
They moved over to the bed and Malcolm pushed the compliant man to the bed.  
“Relax,” he murmured, running his hand over Tucker’s arms. Malcolm kissed his way along his lover’s jaw and nibbled at a patch of skin as Trip let his hands wander..  
He felt Reed grow harder under his touch. It was a frightening thought, but also exhilarating. Alien and familiar in one. Malcolm’s breathing quickened as he let his hand slide to rest over the hardness. He experimentally moved his fingers, brushing over sensitive spots. Everything, the look of his lover, the reactions he caused in him, almost threw Trip over the edge. He rested his forehead against Malcolm’s eyes closed, drawing deep breaths.  
“Never done this before,” he murmured, kissing Reed’s lower lip.  
That got him a raised eyebrow. “You haven’t? And still you come to me, offering?”  
Trip swallowed, feeling suddenly rather foolish. Malcolm leaned down and brushed a kiss over his forehead and then his nose.  
“I have,” the lieutenant told him. “But it’s been a while. A long while… Guess we have to learn then.” Another kiss. “If you want this, that is.”  
Trip exhaled, swallowing. “Yes. I want it, Malcolm, really.”  
Malcolm smiled. “Turn around,” he murmured.  
Trip complied and Reed settled himself on his thighs, running his hands over the muscular back. Trip gave a sigh of contentment as strong fingers dug into his muscles flexing underneath the tanned skin, massaging them.  
“We’ll take it slow,” Reed told him softly, kissing his way down the path he had kneaded before. “Only what we… you are comfortable with.”  
“I feel very comfortable with you,” the commander moaned as nimble fingers caressed him.//

They had gone real slow about this. Malcolm had had experience, true, but he hadn’t forced Trip into accepting anything the older man hadn’t been ready for. They had touched their bodies, explored each other, learned about the partner. Trip had been excited and apprehensive in one, but he had slid into this new experience easily. They had kept it at a leisurely pace. Malcolm had been patient and even today Trip had to smile as he remembered the expression on the other’s face when Tucker had first used his mouth to bring him to climax. It had been ecstasy laced with wonder and joy. He supposed he had had a similar expression when Malcolm had done it earlier.  
When they had actually slept with the other, when Trip had followed Malcolm’s instructions and had taken him, it had floored him. The passion, the heat, the desire, the need... the sheer feeling of being inside the other man and hearing him yell his name in completion. He still remembered holding the smaller body in his arms, Reed’s eyes screwed shut. He had had his face burrowed in Trip’s neck, breathing heavily, tremors racing through the tight coils of muscle. Trip had never felt so content.  
Still, something nagged in the back of his mind, and Trip knew now what it was. He felt more than just lust for Reed’s body. He felt more than just the need to have release. He had fallen, some time ago, and he had fallen for Lieutenant Malcolm Reed.  
Shit.  
I don’t even know if he feels the same. For him, this could just be something to take the edge off!  
But Malcolm wasn’t the person to go bed-hopping either. Not the Malcolm he had gotten to know. Reed was quite intense, very focused. Not just at work, but also in their relationship. Trip couldn’t see him cheat his lover.  
Cheat! Lover…  
He snorted slightly. They had both agreed to keep this casual, which meant any other affair outside this one was okay. But Trip hadn’t had any interest other than the armory officer lately and he had never seen Malcolm actually hitting on a woman, or another man for that matter, at all. The British reserve took care of that, but damn if it was let loose.  
Tucker smiled and felt a warm tingle in his stomach.  
The captain knew about this new twist to the men's friendship. Archer had actually found out not long after they had started seeing each other. Trip had to grin. John had more or less interrogated him, wanted to know his intentions, given him a few pointers concerning relationships on starships, and Trip had only nodded. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize this mission, the crew, the ship. He knew how to handle this. There was also no danger of a pregnancy. The commander grimaced. Then again, he had been proven wrong a while ago; men could get pregnant.... though it involved aliens, and Malcolm Reed was as human as he was.  
Trip massaged the limp fingers, sighing softly. He had to talk with Reed about this. He had to know what Malcolm felt, if his deeper feelings were reciprocated or if the lieutenant just saw a good lay in him. Even if that hurt, he would have to accept it. Gentle pressure against his fingers alerted him and Tucker suddenly looked into a pair of blue eyes. A bit sleepy, dazed, but awake.  
"Hey," he murmured and returned the squeeze.  
Malcolm gave him a wonderful smile, eyes lighting up. "Hey," he rasped. “You look tired."  
"You look terrible," Trip returned with a grin.  
"Oh, thank you," he grumbled. His eyes roamed around the room as far as he could see it. "Still?" he murmured, sounding dejected.  
Trip almost laughed. "Yeah. Doc's not lettin' you go for another day or so. Talked with him about handin' you over to my care, but he insisted." He gave him an apologetic shrug.  
Malcolm smiled again. "Looking forward to that," he whispered.  
Trip leaned forward and placed a gentle, almost chaste kiss on his lover's lips. "So do I. Sleep some more."  
"I've been doing nothing but sleep lately," his lover complained.  
"Which is good for you. You need it, Mal."  
The younger man sighed. "Stay?" he asked.  
Trip leaned over him again, placing another soft kiss on the slightly too pale lips. "As long as you want me to."  
Malcolm smiled briefly. "Don't make promises you can't keep, commander. You still have a job to do."  
The engineer snorted. "The ship's not fallin' apart."  
"Dereliction of duty, sir?" One dark eyebrow rose.  
Trip grinned. "Just keepin' a sick friend company, is all."  
He pushed back a strand of hair and smiled at his lover as Malcolm slipped back to sleep. The sooner he was out of here, the better Tucker would feel. And the sooner he could try and clear the air between them, tell Malcolm what he really felt.

* * *

The Enterprise left orbit two days later. The Tshan government had apologized again and again, and Archer had accepted the apology, but he wouldn’t send down more people. More uprisings had broken out despite proclamations that everything was under control. It was a political fight and Enterprise and her crew, and with them Earth, wouldn’t get involved. Archer didn’t need T’Pol to tell him to keep his fingers out of this fire.  
As for the Ancharee, the Tshan had denied all knowledge of them and though T’Pol had taken readings, the scanners were unable to pick up any signs of them. Even the camp Malcolm had been found in had ceased to exist. The jungle seemed to have claimed back the little clearing, destroying the small buildings with unbelievable speed. The Forest People had simply disappeared, leaving Archer with a mystery he would never solve and a feeling of profound and utter gratefulness.  
Reed had healed. The ribs had mended, the bullet wound was nothing but a red mark on his skin, and the bruises had disappeared. Thanks to modern medicine the lieutenant had survived and would have no reminders in another week's time. Except for his memories. Those were what remained, but he would work through them.  
Laying in bed, feeling the warmth of his lover against him, Reed wasn’t very inclined to move. He was still on sick leave and not expected anywhere, a luxury he hadn't had in a long time. It meant he could actually stay in bed with Trip, instead of hurrying to his shift, which sometimes ran on different schedules than his lover's. If he didn't know better, he would suspect that Archer was testing them. Could they make it to their shifts on time? Were there any shortcomings? But Archer was above such petty displays and both men had had non-corresponding shifts before. Trip pulled doubles when the situation demanded it, as did Malcolm, so their dedication to the Enterprise was as before.  
The arm around his waist tightened and Tucker nuzzled his neck, evoking a mild shiver in Reed. He turned in the embrace and watched Trip's eyes open, smiling as he saw the familiar light in them. A light that gave him a pretty good idea that his lover had been awake for a while.  
Malcolm placed a kiss on the sensual lips and they opened under the light pressure, inviting him in. It was a soft kiss, gentle, an expression of love rather than lust. It grew deeper, hands roaming over the other body, and Malcolm arched into the touch, never breaking the intimate lip contact. Trip did, inhaling, face flushed, eyes glowing. Reed smiled. His lover continued to kiss him, his lips, chin, neck, trailing a wet path down to his collar bone. He nibbled at a particular spot, one that had Malcolm whimper as it was teethed and sucked. His nerve endings tingled with the sensation and he clutched Trip's blond head.  
"Trip!" he moaned.  
Tucker chuckled and raised himself so that he was looking down at him. "Yes?"  
Malcolm ran a finger over the tempting lips and smiled. "Good morning to you, too."  
His lover chuckled. Reed wrapped his arms around the taller man, possessively pulling him close. It was his first night in his own bed again, with this man, and it had felt so good to be held. To be held by this man. Losing himself in another kiss that explored his mouth, gentle and without the needy lust of starvation Trip sometimes displayed, he wondered what felt changed about them. Something had changed, something was different, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.  
While he had been recovering, Trip had come by, like many others, but he had had to leave again. Phlox had kept him under with pain-killers to make the mending process easier, but Reed had started to hate the narcotics after a while, be it drugs or some strange animal substances or even the animal himself. He wouldn't complain as long as he was healing.  
"I missed this," he mumbled into the crook of Trip's neck, feeling an answering sigh brush his skin.  
"Yeah, me too. Was damn lonely in bed. And cold."  
Malcolm rubbed a hand over the shirt-clad back, then slipped them under it. He loved the feel of warm skin. His lover's skin. Trip kissed him again, exploring his mouth at a leisurely pace. Last night, nothing much had happened. Physical activities were not on their agenda just yet. They had cuddled together, holding each other, falling asleep after a while. Like in the beginning when intimate contact had stopped just there, neither inclined to scare the other away.  
For Reed it had also meant the first night of sleep without drugs -- and without dreams. He still had recurring dreams about the kidnapping, the jungle, the pain.  
Trip rested his head against Malcolm's, sighing softly. The lieutenant pressed a kiss against his lips. "I'm fine, Trip. I'm really fine," he spoke out the hidden fear. "I won't fall apart or break or anything."  
Tucker chuckled wryly. "I know you're fine, Mal. Doc says so."  
"But...?"  
There was a brief moment of silence.  
"This scared me like hell," the engineer confessed softly.  
"It's part of our jobs. We signed up for this, knowing it was dangerous."  
The older man sat up and gazed down at him, face serious. "I know."  
Malcolm followed and sat up as well. "But....?" he inquired again.  
Trip sighed explosively. "I don't know, Malcolm! I know it's our job. I know it's your job. Hell, you're the armory officer. You're always the first to get into the line of fire! When we got involved.... heck, I was quite aware of the danger. I know you're a capable officer, I know you were trained." He ran a hand through his short, blond hair. "It's the job," he said quietly. "But I'm scared. And I never told you… When you got hurt... When I saw you laying there, so pale and covered in blood…. I didn’t know if I could take it…"  
"Do you want to end it?" Malcolm asked reasonably.  
Trip's eyes took on a hard to read expression. He gazed into Malcolm’s eyes and something suddenly clenched inside the younger man. It was almost painful.  
“You want to end it,” he heard himself whisper, the fear transforming into terror.  
Oh Lord… He had asked because he hadn’t expected to receive a positive answer. But the silence, the look in Trip’s eyes… it confirmed something he had never wanted to hear. He had enjoyed their relationship so far, had wanted to continue it, but it looked like it was at an end now.  
Well, at least he had had those months.  
Tucker’s eyes widened in shock. "No!" he exclaimed. "No, Mal, no! I wouldn't want to end this, ever! I love you.” He stopped, suddenly losing all color, as if he hadn’t meant to blurt out what he just had.  
Reed stared at him, the terror quickly dissipating and coming back in form of soul-deep shock.  
“You love me?” he stammered.  
The engineer swallowed convulsively, then hung his head.  
“Trip…”  
Tucker shook his head, almost physically pulling away. Reed grabbed one wrist, harder than he intended, and Trip’s head flew up.  
“Do you love me?” Reed demanded.  
“I….”  
“Trip, please, the truth!”  
“Yes, I love you! Damn, I fell for you an’ I can’t fight it any longer!” he almost yelled. “I love you! I don’t know what you feel, but I can’t deny it any more and I don’t want to.” Trip inhaled. “Until this incident, I wasn’t really sure, but this is for real. I can’t go on play-actin’, Malcolm. I didn’t intend it to become this… I just wanted someone… No, not someone. You. I wanted you… even back then I chose only you, no one else. But now.. it hurts so much an’ I want to have all of you.”  
Trip was babbling and Malcolm tightened his hold on the wrist.  
“Trip.”  
The engineer stopped, apprehensively watching his lover.  
“Do you really want to get involved with another man?” Reed asked reasonably. “I’m the first man you’ve been with and it is natural to attach yourself to me, but you have a lot more to choose from.” He quirked a smile. “Actually, there is a whole universe out there.”  
“Don’t want the universe. I want you.”  
Malcolm smiled a bit more. “You have me. Whenever you want, you can come to me. I will come to you. Being in this relationship doesn’t mean any strings attached, any commitments. I thought we had cleared that in the beginning.”  
Tucker shook his head, anger crossing his face. He forcefully pulled his wrist out of the other man’s grasp. “I ain’t talkin’ a roll in the hay! We had that for the last months and it always left me with the feelin’ of somethin’ being amiss. Of a missin’ piece I couldn’t find. I love what we do. Malcolm, you make me feel things I’ve never felt before, and believe me, I’ve been with my share of women.” Trip paused, shaking his head again. “I know this might not work. I’m not really good at relationships, but this time it’s not just a fling. I can feel it. You’re not some gal back on Earth, waitin’ for her Starfleet poster boy to come home. You are here, with me, and it feels right.” He met the gray-blue eyes. “It feels like it should be.”  
Reed was silent for a while, pondering the declaration and revelation.. “My track record with relationships isn’t perfect either. It’s abysmal, actually. You know about the girls back on Earth…. You heard me recording the messages.” He sighed. “And I told you getting close to someone isn’t easy for me. I’m not easy.”  
Trip nodded slowly, seriously, but there was still hope alive in those blue eyes. “I know all that, Malcolm. But I can’t go on denyin’ what I feel. I want more. I want you, your body and soul.” One of his usual grins flew over his lips. “Hell, if I had wanted easy, I wouldn’t have approached you.”  
Malcolm grinned as well. “I think I got close to you, too,” he confessed, smiling slightly. “Closer than to anyone I’ve ever met, ever been with. Male or female.” He reached out and entwined their hands. Trip gave him a wide, relieved smile.  
“Hell, I’ve been with ladies and I don’t think I ever got as close as I got to you either,” he told the younger man.  
Malcolm tucked at the hand. Trip smiled and settled against him, sighing with the feeling of perfect content.  
 “If we want to make this work, you have to accept my profession, just like I accept yours,” Reed went on. “You could get hurt just as easily, just as quickly, and you are on Away Teams as well. Not just me.".  
"I know," Tucker mumbled as he rested his head against the slender shoulder. “I know I can do it. Now.”  
“Now?”  
“Now that I know that you know… about me and the feelin’s. I love you."  
Malcolm smiled, his eyes lighting up. "Love you," he murmured and stroked the blond head.  
“You think the others’ll have a problem with it?”  
The lieutenant chuckled. “Depends on how you want us to appear to their eyes. Holding hands in public? Hiding in dark corners and kissing the other senseless?”  
Trip had to laugh at that. “You make us sound like two teenagers.”  
Malcolm smiled. “I’d like to keep our private lives private, Trip. It’s no one’s business what we do off duty.”  
“You are a very private person,” Trip commented, the hand resting on Malcolm’s stomach gently stroking over the defined muscles.  
“That’s how I was raised. What about you?”  
“Despite the rumors, I can keep my mouth shut. We’ve got a job to do out here… It’s my greatest dream come true. I won’t jeopardize it by playin’ foolish. The capt’n knows about it.”  
“Which is good. I trust Captain Archer.”  
Relationships among same sexes were no great problem in this day and age, but serving on the same starship might create a problem for others, especially since the two men involved were of the senior staff and Trip was technically the superior officer. Reed knew of couples serving on ships together, even one under the command of the other, but none had ever had the status of Enterprise.  
“We’ll see how it goes,” Trip murmured. “Wasn’t planning on ravishin’ on the bridge anyway…”  
“Oh? How disappointing.”  
The blond laughed. “And here I thought you Brits were all shy and so reserved.”  
“You should know this Brit better by now, Yank.”  
Both men lay together for a while, just holding each other. Trip was the first to move and he kissed his younger lover, tongue teasing over the lips until they opened. Malcolm pulled him with him as he sank onto the bed, Trip covering him.  
He deepened the kiss. "I won't break..." he reminded the hesitant man, lips moving against Trip's skin. He nibbled at his ear lobe, his fingers drawing patterns on the muscular back.  
Trip moaned softly, catching the sensual lips, plundering the hot cavern. He didn't ask if Malcolm was sure; he took what was offered to him.

*

They lay together in the hazy aftermath of their lovemaking, Reed holding his lover as Trip was breathing hard, his head pressed against the bare chest. It had been long, sensual, highly erotic, full of teasing and promises, and very, very fulfilling. Malcolm ran his fingers through the sweaty hair, smiling as Trip nuzzled his chest with a contented sigh.  
"Shower," the armory officer mumbled.  
"You are insatiable."  
He chuckled. "I was merely suggesting to get cleaned up.... but if you have other ideas, commander."  
Trip smiled and looked at him, a sly expression in his eyes. "You up to it, lieutenant?"  
"Depends on what 'it' is in your dictionary."  
Tucker laughed. “My current dictionary is rather limited and all it contains are words that make me really, really hot.”  
Malcolm pulled him into a soul-searing kiss, devouring him. “Then let’s cool you off,” he breathed.  
He nimbly slipped out of bed and Trip swallowed a groan as he watched his naked lover walk over to the shower. Yes, he was in love, he had fallen deeply, but the lust was still there, and currently, if governed his thinking. He quickly followed Malcolm, catching him in the doorway and pinning him against the wall. He pressed their bodies together, reveling in the feel and the sound of his lover.


End file.
